


Promise

by msbt



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Almost First Kiss, Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbt/pseuds/msbt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is taken hostage and Rick faces his feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

His breathing was heavy, harsh, his heart racing. He needed to keep calm, for both of them, he needed to focus his full attention on the man in front of him he was trying to negotiate with, but despite that and the gun pointed at his own chest, it was quite impossible for Rick to tear his gaze from Daryl's prone body on the floor.

Daryl was unconscious, his slack face turned to one side, eyes shut and mouth slightly parted. The blood trickling down from his hairline was deep red, making Rick feel sick and infuriating him, as much as the muzzle of the rifle pointed at the back of the hunter's head and the boot pressed down on his shoulder did.

"Don't get us wrong, we're not lookin' for any trouble." A bald man before Rick said with a nonchalant shrug, keeping his gun aimed at him, in contrast to what he had just said. "You answer my questions and you can leave."

Looking to the man, Rick narrowed his eyes at him, jaw set in barely concealed anger. How could it happen that people who wasn't looking for any trouble ambushed and knocked someone out with the butt of a rifle? They had been on a supply run for baby stuff, diapers, formula, wipes and so on, raided an abandoned nursery, then been attacked by these two strangers, Daryl taken as a hostage.

It took everything Rick had to subdue the rage swelling inside him and keep his composure, then there was dread that came over him, the horrible feeling of dread that just one mistake would be fatal, could cost Daryl's life. It was unbearable to think about that possibility.

Rick felt a tight lump in his throat, swallowing hard. His eyes were trained on Daryl; he was still unconscious and bleeding, his untrimmed, long hair splayed across his pale face. Then Rick let his gaze run up from the boot on his shoulder to a fat guy who was pinning the hunter to the floor of the nursery. The man looked nervous and on edge as if he had no clue what to do. So, the bald guy was a chief he needed to talk things out with, Rick assumed. 

"Let's have a calm discussion," the said guy drew Rick's attention back to the conversation, a patently false smile on his face. "Where's your camp?"

"We don't have a camp. We're alone out here, moving place to place." The tone of Rick's voice was controlled as he looked at the man with a firm gaze. There was no hint of fear or worry in his expression, even though he was inwardly terrified of the idea of losing Daryl. He couldn't tell these men about the prison, their home where he and his kids and his family found some peace and lived. Rick's eyes never left the bald guy while watching the unconscious hunter and the fat guy in his peripheral vision.

"Yeah? Only two of you? Why do you need these?" The bald guy kicked Rick's backpack at his feet, scattering diapers across the floor. He scoffed maliciously at the ex-deputy. "Are you into this kind of stuff?"

It was obvious that the man was doing this deliberately to provoke him, so Rick did keep his emotions in check, locking his jaw, his face an impassive mask. He managed to, until the bald man pointed his chin towards Daryl on the floor. "Or is he? He your bitch?"

The laughter and the grinning from both of the guys were disgusting, making Rick want to peel the skin of their faces off. Sure there had been certain moments between him and Daryl, moments of staring, touching and lingering by each other's side longer than necessary. They had never talked about it, had never tried to figure out what it was and would be, but one thing Rick could tell for sure was Daryl Dixon was nobody's bitch. He didn't deserve to be insulted or degraded in any way.

"Man I don't get it, he looks like he has fleas and ticks and God knows what." With a snort, the fat guy bent down to grab Daryl by the hair, pulling his head up and sniffing before making a face. "I'd consider other options."

It sent another hot rush of anger coursing through Rick, anger towards the man touching his hunter, the hand in his hair, the face a few inches away from his, the eyes looking him up and down, sizing him up like he was some piece of meat. Daryl was still out cold, letting the man do whatever he wanted. Red blood stained his skin. Rick hated the sight. Hated to see him bleed, get bruised and hurt. Because Daryl was his family, his brother, someone special to him.

"Well you can't be picky in a damn apocalypse. Right?" The bald guy shrugged, turning to grin with his teeth exposed at Rick. He shot a glare at the man, putting every ounce of anger into it. "He's my friend. Take whatever you want and let him go."

The man's mouth quirked into a devilish smile. "What if I take him?"

Rick's heart froze at his words. No, it couldn't happen. He couldn't lose Daryl, his friend, his family, hisー

"What for?" The fat guy frowned at his buddy as he loosed the grip of his hand, Daryl's head falling back to the floor with a heavy thud, still showing no signs of consciousness. Rick's worries grew, causing a tight knot in his chest. Head injuries could be life-threatening. Daryl needed to be treated soon.

"Use your loaf dumbass." Voice exasperated, the bald guy walked towards the other and cocked his head. The fat guy took a step back so that the leader now stood beside Daryl, studying him closely, that grin back on his face. "We could use him as a human shield, bait to distract dead ones, even emergency rations, too..."

Rick knew it was all just a bluff, yet still it wasn't something he could stand to hear. Gritting his teeth to confine his rage stoked to the point of bursting, he tried to think of something to get them out of the situation alive, eyes quickly scanning around. The attackers had disarmed them and taken his gun, machete, Daryl's crossbow and knife which was in the bald guy's hand now. The man wedged the toe of his boot under Daryl's shoulder, rolling him onto his back and kneeling down. The hunter's eyes were closed, mouth parted, limbs limply lying. He looked at peace, except for the sickly pale tone of his skin and the red stream of his blood.

Raising Daryl's knife, the bald guy looked to Rick again, mouth twisting into a grim smile. "But I won't take him. What I want is information, not a trailer trash." He held the knife, pressing the edge against Daryl's cheek, letting it bite into the flesh. A thin line of blood welled up. "What should I do? How about tearing his face off? You want to hear him scream and beg?"

Something in the man's eyes told Rick that he would do what he'd said; Rick's voice was no louder than before, but holding an unmistakable note of fear and anger in it. "Don't do that to him. It shouldn't have to be this way."

The man snorted out a cold laugh, drawing the knife slowly, leaving the red gash across Daryl's cheek. "He's just a friend, right? Someone expendable to you."

No, he wasn't. Rick did know that. Daryl wasn't expendable at all, and indispensable was not the word for him, either; he was way more than that. Daryl was the one who had had faith in Rick even when his wife hadn't, the one who had taken care of his kids when he hadn't been able to, the one to steady him and make sure he wouldn't shoulder too much burden.

It hadn't taken long for Rick to find himself attracted to the hunter. His heart beat faster just by staring into those baby blues of Daryl's eyes, his look or touch igniting something deep within him. But whenever he stepped forward and reached out to touch him, or held his gaze to let him know the feelings he had for him, Daryl would shy away and avert his eyes like he thought he deserved none.

Rick should have told him that was bullshit and he deserved everything and more. How much he meant to their family and him. How much Rick cared for him.

Unable to watch him get hurt any further, Rick was about to stop the attackers and let them do anything to him instead of the hunter when Daryl's eyes snapped open, and everything happened in a flash. Daryl clutched the man's hand gripping his knife, twisting it and driving the blade into his neck. Blood squirted from the jugular as the man gagged, painting Daryl's face and shirt crimson, but it didn't stop him or make him hesitate. Hands grabbing the man's shoulders, Daryl shoved him away with everything he had, the momentum sending the body crashing into the fat man, knocking him to the floor.

Panicked, he pulled the trigger, but the shot missed completely. Daryl took the opportunity to reach out and grab the barrel of the rifle, keeping the muzzle away from him as his sharp voice pierced the air. "Rick, go! Run!"

The hunter hadn't looked back at the other so he didn't know Rick had bolted towards them already, snatching the gun in the dead man's hand. A bang. Then silence for a moment.

Daryl stared down at the newly dead man, breathing heavily. His eyes were wild, adrenaline pumping.

"Daryl," Rick kept his tone as low and calm as possible, despite the loud thumping in his ears, and took a step closer to the hunter. He was all covered in blood and dirt, hair matted. "You okay?"

Casting a glance at him, Daryl dropped his gaze quickly before mumbling, voice gruff. "Yeah, m'fine."

No he was not and Rick couldn't let it go this time. Couldn't let the fact that Daryl had risked his life so that Rick could run away go. He closed the distance in a few quick strides, catching the hunter's hand as Daryl bent down and reached out for his knife. 

"Hey, look at me." Rick's voice was sterner than he'd meant it to be. Instinctively, Daryl tried to pull away, only to realize the other's grip showed no intention of letting him go. No escape. So he did what he always did in situations like this: glared and snarled to defend himself. "Ain't got no time to spare. You know what those gunshots could attract. We gotta go. Now."

"Yeah but let me just make this one thing clear. That was a close call, Daryl. You could have died." Looking into the other's eyes, Rick tried his best to get his point across. "Well, I didn't." Daryl shrugged, pretending he had no idea what the matter was, and that was the last straw.

"I could've lost you!" The combined anger and fear was clear in Rick's voice, making the hunter flinch slightly and go still. Daryl's eyes went wide, staring back into Rick's. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper when he spoke gingerly after a few seconds of silence. "I coulda lost you, too"

For a moment Rick was lost for words, staring at Daryl's blood-covered face. His eyes looked brighter with unspoken emotions, holding Rick's gaze tightly. That was when Rick noticed the same amount of fear in those eyes as his own; Daryl had been scared, afraid of losing him. The fear had made him put himself in jeopardy.

Releasing his grip around his wrist, Rick cupped the side of the hunter's neck, eyes never leaving his, voice filled with sincerity and concern. "Promise me you'll never take risks like that again. Whatever comes our way, we'll make it together."

He could see Daryl's hesitation, his eyes practically telling him that he couldn't promise that and would do anything to keep Rick alive; but despite that, Daryl nodded after staring at him for what felt like an eternity. The fear in his eyes was replaced with trust, and something close to devotion. Rick's hand ached to move up, cup the other's cheek, trace his lips with his thumb, wipe the blood away and explore his skin. The look in Daryl's eyes almost made him believe he wanted Rick to do so.

And Rick did what his gut told him to do, moving his hand to hold his face, leaning forward until his lips found Daryl's.


End file.
